


Competitive Nudity

by memorizingthedigitsofpi



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Academy Era, Competitive Fitzsimmons, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Sci-Ops Era (Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.), Smut, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-07 12:23:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7714741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memorizingthedigitsofpi/pseuds/memorizingthedigitsofpi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all started at a graduation party. <br/>Strip poker leads to a need for revenge which leads to strip everything else. <br/>You know what that leads to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Poker

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lapiccolina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lapiccolina/gifts).



> Originally part of my March Madness competition, I'm dragging this out of the cupboard because I felt like writing something and the first chapter was already done.

Fitz stared awkwardly into his red Solo cup and tried not to be jostled too much from his position next to the refreshments table. _How_  Jemma had convinced him to come to this thing…

“Fitz!” shouted Grace Li exuberantly. 

The left side of his mouth jerked upward automatically in response, but it wasn’t exactly a smile. 

“G-Grace,” he stuttered, swallowing hard. He gripped his cup more tightly in his fist, branishing it like a defensive weapon, but it was no use. 

“I’m going to _miss_ you, Fitz!” Grace said, still too loudly, as she threw herself bodily into his embrace. 

His eyes widened in alarm as he caught her, and then he looked around in search of a place to put her now that he had her. 

“Uh, m-me too,” he muttered distractedly. _Ah, that’d do_. He shuffled over a few steps and deposited her on an empty chair. 

She ended up tipping over slightly into the person one seat over. 

“Marsha!” she shouted cheerfully. “I’m going to _miss_  you, Marsha!”

Fitz shook his head a bit ruefully and moved back to his station next to the pretzels. How otherwise intelligent newly-graduated SHIELD agents could get this drunk… Didn’t they realize what the alcohol was doing to their brain cells?

He tossed back the dregs of his beer and took a deep breath. Time to plunge back into the fray for a refill. 

“We couldn’t _possibly_ , Simmons,” Dwight D. I. Sinnhauer was saying officiously from his seat at the head of the dining room table. “I mean, _legally_ …” he spread his hands wide and the other four lads around the table laughed raucously. 

Jemma rolled her eyes with her arms crossed over her chest. “Yes, yes,” she said impatiently. “I’m _young_. But you know full well that I’m long since past my 18th birthday, so don’t give me any of that _legal_ faff.”

Fitz moved closer with a frown on his face. “Something the matter?” he asked casually as he sidled up behind her. 

Another round of “Ohhh,” swept the table as the older men elbowed each other in the ribs and waggled their eyebrows meaningfully. 

Len Danby-Johnson coughed significantly, unsuccessfully hiding his grin behind his hand. “Look fellas,” he said in mock surprise. “It’s Fitz!” and Drew Jackson added, “What a shocking turn of events!”

“Ugh, Fitz,” Jemma said, stomping her foot impatiently. “Stop trying to _protect_  me, will you?” she turned to glare at him. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“Oh, really?” he asked, glaring at her in return. He tried not to notice the gaggle of people around them watching what was going on. “So you want me to just leave you here in the middle of a bunch of half-drunk men, then?”

“Hey now,” Len said with a mildly insulted frown on his face. “What’re you implying?”

“You were perfectly happy to leave me on my own as soon as you saw that bowl of pretzels,” Jemma pointed out, eyes flashing. 

“Danger Will Robinson,” Dwight muttered under his breath. “Abort! Abort!”

Fitz shoved his hands onto his hips and leaned in to give her a piece of his mind. “That bowl of pretzels was the only good thing _about_  this party, thank you very much!” he said, voice rising in anger. “And I didn’t leave you on your own, you _abandoned me_.”

People were now moving from being intensely interested in what was being shouted to looking intensely awkward and trying not to overhear. Usually when FitzSimmons argued you got to hear some snappy one-liners and a zinger or two, and generally speaking they let loose with something that was useful on a final exam or in a paper. This was… unusual. 

“Look, uh,” Drew interrupted in an effort to calm things down. “Why don’t you _both_  sit down and play?”

“ _Thank_  you,” Jemma said coolly, spinning around on one toe and dropping herself into an empty seat. 

Fitz stood there for a moment longer, seething internally. “Play _what_?” he asked through clenched teeth. 

“Poker,” Tom S. Jefferson put in, speaking up for the first time. 

Fitz didn’t like the way he was staring at Jemma. Had he never seen a _girl_  before?

“Strip poker,” Jemma corrected, grabbing the cards and beginning to shuffle. 

Fitz was halfway into the seat next to her when she said it, and he dropped the last few inches like a sack of potatoes.

“What?” he asked, turning to her in surprise. 

“You heard me,” she said, shrugging nonchalantly. Then she rapped the cards efficiently on the table and began to deal. “Seven card stud, nothing wild. Bring-in bet’s a sock,” she said rapidly. 

The confident faces of the other men at the table quickly faded into worry. 

Fitz stared at Simmons in a combination of awe and horror. She was really going to do this. 

* * *

Fitz kept his hole cards buried close to his stomach as he shivered in his seat next to Simmons. He was down to his Spiderman underoos and really wishing he’d worn different underwear. 

It could be worse though, Len and Tom were already out of the game and standing awkwardly behind a couple of potted plants to hide the remains of their dignity as they watched what was probably the final hand being played. 

Dwight looked at his hand and then looked at Simmons, mentally weighing whether or not the River card would allow him to beat her. 

“I’m out,” he sighed, tossing in his cards. Then he stood up stripped off his boxers. 

Fitz wasn’t going to look because he figured what another bloke had between his legs was none of his business, but Jemma’s murmur of appreciation when she saw it made him curious. 

He wasn’t hard or anything, so he didn’t see what Simmons was so enamoured of, but he did seem to do something or other to his pubes to make his dick look more impressive. Is that all it took? Giving it a trim?

Fitz frowned at himself and looked back at his cards. He must have had more beers than he’d thought if he was contemplating the relative attractiveness of another man’s junk. 

“Me too,” Drew said, shimmying out of his tighty whiteys while remaining seated at the table. 

“Aww,” Jemma said completely unsympathetically. She was still fully clothed. Then her expression hardened. “You haven’t paid up until you’ve stood up.”

Drew sheepishly half-rose out of his chair to let her see his equipment and then sat back down again immediately. “Happy?” he asked. 

“Yes,” she said smugly. Then, standing up, she started collecting all of the discarded clothing that she’d deposited on the floor next to her chair. 

“Hey,” Dwight said indignantly. “What about Fitz?”

Fitz glared at him. Traitor. Weren’t bros supposed to… something? He couldn’t quite remember what it was, but he felt sure it _wasn’t_  sell each other out to conniving females.

“Yeah,” put in the rest of the naked men. Several of the observers chipped in, as well. 

Jemma turned to him, arms already full of clothes, and shrugged. “I suppose those _are_  the rules, Fitz,” she said matter of factly. “Do you want to keep playing, or would you rather save time and just forfeit now?”

“Save time?” he repeated, pride clearly wounded. 

“Oh good,” she said, as if he weren’t arguing with her. “I really _do_  want to get home to bed, actually.”

Fitz blushed as more than one person suggested she take one of her opponents to bed _with_  her. 

He blushed even harder when he noticed her considering it. Considering _Dwight,_  to be specific.

“Fine,” he all but cursed. And then he shoved his underwear down his legs and kicked it onto her pile. He refused to be ashamed of his nudity and instead brazened it out, crossing his arms over his chest instead of cupping his hands over his cock. 

He couldn’t believe that she actually _looked_. That was just… It was _immoral_  is what it was. She had snookered him out of his clothes _in public_  and that was just unconscionable. 

He was going to have to make her pay.

But how?


	2. Scrabble

"This is ridiculous," Jemma rolled her eyes as she selected seven tiles from the bag.

"You _said_ I could have a rematch," Fitz pointed out. "And that I could pick the game."

"Yes," Jemma demurred. "But strip _Scrabble_? Really?"

Fitz blushed and lined up his letters in their little wooden holder. Practically all vowels. He hated it when that happened. At least the two consonants he  _did_ have were useful. "It was either this or Monopoly," he mumbled. He certainly wasn't about to play cards with her again. Not after she'd revealed herself as some sort of card sharp.

Jemma grinned as she rearranged her own letters. "You might have been better off with that option," she said confidently. "So, what are the rules then? We can't very well do it on a per-word basis or we'll both be starkers before the game's half over."

Fitz frowned and bit his lip as he studied the board. "How about, if you use a triple the other person has to take off a piece of clothing?" he suggested.

Jemma glanced down at her letters and then back up at Fitz. "Alright," she agreed, sitting up a bit straighter. "And if you use all of your letters, they have to take off two."

Fitz looked at her confident expression with narrowed eyes. He didn't like the way she'd looked at her letters before saying that. "...Fine," he said, looking at her distrustfully. Then he gestured gallantly at the board. "Ladies first."

Jemma's eyes lit up and she started laying down tile after tile. "T-R-I-U-M-P-H," she spelled in a singsong voice. "Quite a good word to start off with, don't you think?" She smiled at him sweetly and he rankled.

"I don't know how, but you're cheating," he said gracelessly.

"Either prove it or give me your clothes," Jemma said, one perfect eyebrow arched in annoyance.

Grumbling and glaring at her, he kicked off both of his shoes. Then he studied his own letters carefully, rearranging them several times.

Jemma sighed. "I should have required a timer," she mumbled.

"Shut it."

"I'm just _saying_ -"

"Yes, and you can still just shut it."

"No one likes a sore loser, _Leo_ ," Jemma stuck out her tongue at him.

"I'm hardly _losing_ after the first word!" he stuck his out in return. Still, did she _have_ to place it so that it was the U that was in line with the triples?

Jemma rolled her eyes and shook her head, jotting down her score. 65 points to start the game wasn't her best ever, but it wasn't her worst either.

Fitz shuffled his letters around again and finally found a word he could play. He looked up at Jemma where she was concentrating on grabbing new letters, and then back down to his own. He blushed. Still, it was the best word he could make under the circumstances.

Taking a deep breath, he laid them out on the board.

Jemma looked up from where she was rearranging her tiles and smirked. "Oh, really?" she said dryly, raising an eyebrow at Fitz.

"It's just a _word_ ," he said, crossing his arms sulkily. "Don't read into it."

"Why would I read into it?" Jemma asked as she calmly unbuttoned her blouse.

Fitz's eyes widened as she took it off and handed it to him. "Aren't you going to start with your shoes?" he asked, his voice cracking.

"That's _one_ strategy," Jemma acknowledged, standing up and toeing one off. " _My_ strategy, however," she grinned wickedly. "Is distracting you with my breasts so that you don't get any _more_ of my clothes."

Fitz tried valiantly not to look at her chest. He failed within the first two seconds.

"I hate you," he said, staring at her bra-covered boobs. If she was going to use them as weapons, he was going to make her pay for it.

"Shut up and grab your tiles," she smirked, handing him the bag.

Unsurprisingly, an hour later Fitz was completely naked and Jemma had only lost her other shoe.


	3. Monopoly

This time, Fitz _knew_ he was going to win. He was much better with money than he was with letters. Jemma didn't stand a _chance_.

Except Jemma didn't _look_ intimidated. She looked bored.

"Alright, so what are the rules _this_ time?" she asked as she counted out their money.

"If you land on Income Tax, Super Tax, or Jail, you have to remove a piece of clothing. And if you land on Free Parking, the other person has to."

"What about the Chance and Community Chest cards?" Jemma asked, frowning as she watched him shuffle them.

"Hmm..." Fitz considered. "Well, I suppose any that send you to Jail have the same effect as landing on that space?"

"Oh!" Jemma perked up. "Get out of jail free can also mean get a piece of forfeited clothing back!"

"Yes!" Fitz agreed. Despite his annoyance with her winning all the time, he still enjoyed them figuring things out together.

They ironed out a few other things as they finished setting up the board, and then it was time to play.

* * *

There was something just so unattractively _smug_ about the way Jemma kept counting and recounting her money. 

" _Must_ you do that?" Fitz finally snapped. He was more than a little bit cold in their apartment and rather tempted to turn up the heating. Despite it being June.

Jemma looked up from where she was carefully aligning her stacks of bills along the edge of the board. "Do what?" she asked mildly. _She_ wasn't cold. Sat there all high and mighty with her Tshirt still on and her bra and knickers.

Just to be insulting, she'd even left on her socks when she'd taken off her jeans. She was that confident.

Fitz grit his teeth.

"Oh, you mean _win_?" she asked with false helpfulness. "I suppose I just can't help it."

That was a truly malevolent smile she had.

Grumbling to himself, he picked up the dice and rolled. Eleven. Finally, things were looking up.

Smirking at Jemma, he counted his way around the board on his way to Go to collect $200. That would be enough to float him through another circuit, at least. And hopefully Jemma would land on Whitehall next, were he had three houses just _waiting_ to gut her for rent.

He was just reaching toward the bank for his funds when Jemma pressed a hand against his arm.

"What?" he asked, looking down at the offending body part and frowning.

"I always thought that maths was a strong suit of yours," Jemma observed, "But if you can't even count to eleven..."

He frowned down at the board. What was she talking about.

"You were on Water Works," Jemma pointed out.

"Yeah? And?" Fitz said gracelessly. Then his eyes widened as his heart sank. "Shit," he muttered."

Grimacing with distaste, he slowly moved the race car one space back to the right. Mayfair. Where Jemma had built a hotel on her last turn.

Jemma leaned back in her chair with a smug smile and her arms crossed over her chest. She looked from his face to his paltry mounds of monopoly money to his already rather bare body, and she raised on eyebrow in calm consideration. “Would you rather just forfeit?” she asked in that understanding tone of voice that she knew would just piss him off.

“Save your pity for someone who needs it,” Fitz spat back in annoyance. He couldn’t believe she was this good at a ruddy board game, but at the same time he wasn’t about to back out of an agreement.

Standing up, he reached for the waistband of his boxers because he had nothing else left to remove. With a sour look of bitterness on his face, he shoved them down and off his legs, stepping out of them and then tossing them at Jemma.

She caught them with a triumphant smile and looked him in the eye for a moment before letting her gaze drop down.

“I see you were expecting to lose,” she said with a smirk.

Fitz blushed and sat down again quickly. “Just because a fellow _grooms_ himself,” he muttered.

“You mean you didn’t ‘manscape’ just for me?” she teased.


	4. Battleship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Tashonix, by request :)

Fitz placed his pieces rapidly and with confidence. He knew just where to position each boat in order to maximize his chances of winning.

Jemma watched him with a small smile and then, more slowly, placed her own.

"I presume it's one article of clothing per sunken ship?" she asked, reaching across the table to steal some of Fitz's pretzels.

"Oi!" he said, frowning. "Get your own!"

Jemma rolled her eyes and stood up to do so causing Fitz to protectively cover his board.

"No cheating now," she warned, keeping an eye on him as she walked toward the kitchen.

"I could say the same to you!" Fitz shot back. He didn't know _how_ she kept beating him at everything, but he knew he was winning this one. He'd researched it. Read actual _[journal articles](https://scholar.google.ca/scholar?as_sdt=1,5&q=battleship+board+game+strategy&hl=en) _ on winning strategy. There was no way she was getting him naked _this_ time. No. Way.

"I'm getting a soda, as well," Jemma called from the kitchen. "Did you want one?"

Fitz seethed with impatience, wanting to finally have his day of victory.

Still, pretzels are salty snacks.

"Whatever you're having," he called back.

Jemma returned with a bag of crisps, a bottle of Coke, and two glasses.

"You didn't peek, did you?" she asked, squinting at him distrustfully.

"I would _never_!" Fitz gasped, affronted. Actually, he'd been so preoccupied with making sure _she_ didn't cheat that he'd forgotten to do so himself.

Not that he needed to. He had this one in the bag.

As Jemma poured out the drinks, she asked, "Are socks considered one item or two, for the sake of this game?"

Fitz considered that one. He was wearing socks, underwear, jeans, and a tshirt and Jemma was dressed the same. If socks were considered one article, he'd end up naked after four ships were sunk. If they were considered two, Jemma would still have one item left, even after all of her ships were sunk.

"Two for me and one for you," he said firmly.

"That's hardly fair!" Jemma protested.

"Well, how else should we balance it out, then?" Fitz asked reasonably. "You're wearing 6 pieces of clothing that way."

"Hmm." Jemma nodded her agreement, but she didn't seem to be giving way, judging by her facial expression. Finally, she seemed to reach a conclusion. "I'll even the playing field," she said.

Then she reached behind herself and fiddled for a second before reaching into each sleeve and pulling out a strap. One second later, her bra landed on the table between their boards.

Fitz stared at it. It was pink and lacy. Not her usual. Or at least, not the same as the ones she'd been wearing during their previous strip games.

He swallowed, suddenly feeling a bit nervous, then looked up at where Jemma was staring at him with a challenging look on her face.

Not wanting her to see him sweat, he sat up a bit straighter and said, "Alright. Two pieces then."

"Excellent," Jemma smiled, leaning back. "You can go first."

He tried not to notice what was going on under her shirt. 

"B4," he said, a cocky smile on his lips. He had statistics on his side. He couldn't _wait_ for _her_ to be the one left starkers for a change.

"Miss," Jemma said, her smile broadening.

He tried not to look too surprised and stuck a white peg in the board. That was just the first shot. It didn't mean anything.

"Your turn," he said, the epitome of calm.

"E3," Jemma said, not even looking at her board.

Fitz paled. No no no. This was _not_ happening again. "Hit," he said, already feeling a bit sick.

* * *

It was all over in less than half an hour. 

Fitz fumed as he sat naked in his chair while Jemma still had her tshirt and knickers. In all of their games, he'd yet to see _any_ of her bits at all! It was totally unfair!

"Alright," he finally exploded after Jemma had finished putting all of the pieces away. "I give. How did you do it?"

"Do what?" Jemma asked mildly, doing a poor job of keeping eye contact.

"How did you trounce me like that?" Fitz asked, shifting his chair so that his junk was blocked by the table. "I had the statistically perfect set up for my board."

Jemma sat back, her smile fading slightly, but then it reappeared. "You're not the only one who reads Evolutionary Computation in the bathroom, Fitz," she said. "If you _will_ leave it in there, I'm going to pick it up."

Fitz stared at her, slack-jawed, and cursed himself.

"Once I'd figured out the statistically best board, I knew how you'd laid out your pieces," she continued needlessly. "And it was just a matter of keeping mine at the less likely end of things without fully mirroring your own set up."

Fitz glared at her and crunched his last pretzel. "I hate you," he said, sighing in defeat.

Jemma collected the boards and stood up. Stopping beside him on her way back to the board game shelf, she kissed the top of his head. And probably took another peek, knowing her. "You love me," she corrected teasingly.

Fitz stuck his tongue out at her with a sour expression. Then he rolled his eyes and shook his head and smiled. "I know," he admitted.


	5. Chess

Fitz's mouth was pressed into a thin line as he set up the chess table.

It wasn't even about seeing her naked at this point. It was about recovering some small measure of his pride.

Not that he'd _mind_ seeing her naked. The glimpses he'd had so far had been... nice.

Alright, they'd been _more_ than nice, but it wasn't like he was going to do anything about it. She _laughed_ at his junk! That was hardly encouraging! That little smirk every time she saw it. Pfft. As if he had anything to be concerned about.

He'd looked up studies on average penile length. Just to be sure.

No, it wasn't about seeing her naked.

Not _just_ about seeing her naked, that is.

It was about seeing her _defeated_ for once.

It was _unnatural_ for someone to be that good at everything! No one could win every game they played!

He paused in arranging the pieces, briefly considering whether Jemma might be a robot.

After a moment, he shook his head. Not only did she use contractions, she also failed to obey the [Second Law of Robotics](http://www.auburn.edu/~vestmon/robotics.html). She was probably human.

... Or an alien?

He was still pulling at the threads of that idea when Jemma got home. She was loaded down with several pink bags, all of them sprouting tissue paper.

"Someone's birthday?" Fitz guessed, frowning.

"Hmm?" Jemma asked, looking curiously guilty. "No, no. Just some shopping," she smiled. Then she blinked. "Again?" she asked with a slight whine, shoulders drooping so much that her purse slid down to her elbow.

"You _said_ we could have a rematch," Fitz pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

"I _always_ say we can have a rematch," Jemma pointed out, shrugging off her jacket and hanging it and her purse up on her hook beside the door. "That doesn't mean you have to take me up on it."

"So it's a hollow offer, then?" Fitz asked, more than a little offended. "Something you say to appease me? Make me feel better about losing?"

"Oh, Fitz," Jemma moaned, rolling her eyes. "I didn't mean it like _that_."

"Then how _did_ you mean it?" he asked pugnaciously.

Jemma sighed and rolled her eyes ceilingward again. "Let me put my things away and change," she sighed.

"Fine," Fitz said curtly.

Then, not wanting to annoy her _too_ much in case it gave her some sort of advantage during the game, he offered, "How about I order in some pizza? My treat?"

Jemma looked at him suspiciously. "What kind?"

Gritting his teeth but taking his medicine, Fitz said, "Hawaiian."

Jemma smiled broadly. "Perfect."

* * *

Fitz slid his bishop forward and captured Jemma’s rook. He looked up at her with a mocking grin. “I believe that means you owe me your blouse,” he said pompously.

Jemma rolled her jaw forward and glared at him, but decided not to give him the satisfaction of cowering in front of his greatness. “ _I_ believe,” she retorted proudly, “That I still get to choose for _myself_ which article of clothing to remove.

Fitz leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “As you like,” he said generously, “But I’ve already got your shoes, socks, and jeans, so I don’t know what else you plan to give me.”

Raising one eyebrow in challenge, Jemma stood up from her seat. Then, reaching under the blouse that she was now wearing as a dress, she pulled off her panties and threw them in his face. 

Fitz reared back in surprise and pulled the soft fabric off his nose. They seemed... small somehow. His eyes widened as he held them up between his hands. It was a thong.

Gulping and blushing hard, he cleared his throat as he shoved them into his jeans pocket. "Your go," he said a bit hoarsely.

Jemma raised her eyebrow and looked at his pocket but didn't say anything. He just blushed harder.

Turning her attention back to the board, she studied it for a moment before picking up her knight with the kind of smirk that usually spelled trouble for Fitz. Moving it in its trademark L pattern, she knocked over Fitz's queen and, looking him in the eye, she said with glee, " _Check_."

" _What_?" Fitz said, frowning at the board in dismay. He'd been so preoccupied with capturing one of her major pieces to get her to take off her shirt that he hadn't noticed that his king was vulnerable.

"Jeans, please," Jemma said matter-of-factly, making a grabbing motion with one hand. "Fork them over."

"But-"

"Your rules, Fitz," she reminded him.

Glaring at her and grumbling, he unzipped his jeans and kicked them off in her direction.

Jemma picked them up with a smug look on her face and folded them neatly, placing them on top of his shirt and socks on the chair beside her. Then she reached into the pocket and pulled out her knickers, pressing them into his hand.

"Since you won them fair and square," she said, "It's only fair you keep them."

Fitz blushed hard again, feeling very flustered indeed. "Right. Yeah," he muttered, placing them on the table by his left hand. Hopefully Jemma didn't notice it was shaking a little bit.

Getting a grip of himself, or at least of his emotions, he tried to focus on the board again. A sinking feeling came over him. This wasn't possible, was it? She couldn't have done it _again_? Could she? He was winning! He was trouncing her! He had her on the ropes!

In desperation, he made the only move he could make, hiding his king behind his rook.

Jemma tutted and shook her head, looking at him pityingly. "Check."

He moved again, desperately searching for any offensive move he could make instead of these paltry defensive ones.

"Check."

He was frowning and biting his lip now, sweat starting to bead on his brow.

"Check."

Looking up, he caught Jemma's eye. They both knew she had him. He could either topple his king and lose with grace or let her say that fateful word.

He chose the path of surrender.

Head held high as he tried to maintain his dignity, his blush was covering half of his chest as he pushed his boxers down. It wasn't as if they were hiding his reaction to her thong, anyway.

He refused to meet her eyes as he handed them over.

Jemma didn't try to meet his, either. She was too busy looking at something lower down on his anatomy.

"Check _mate_ ," she breathed, eyebrows raised.


	6. Trivial Pursuit

It had become their usual Friday night. Ordering in food and playing a strip variant of some sort of board game. They'd played Risk, Trouble, Sorry, even Settlers of Catan, and always Fitz ended up naked.

Always, Jemma remained mostly clothed by the end.

He'd actually gotten past the embarrassment of nudity. It had never been as difficult as the humiliation of losing, and losing badly, to Jemma every single time. Now, however, she'd seen him naked so many times he was basically inured to it.

What he was _not_ acclimatized to was losing. That was the sticking point that kept him playing long past the point of logic. Anyone else would have given up by now, but not Fitz. Not when his pride had been so sorely wounded.

Still, he was rather lackluster as he chose the blue piece and gathered up the pies.

"Everything alright?" Jemma asked as she formed her pie pieces into a perfect circle on the corner of the board. "You don't seem that into it tonight."

"S'fine," Fitz smiled. Then he sighed. He'd played Trivial Pursuit against Jemma before, and he had no illusions about his odds. But it was the last game they had in the house, so... "You want to go first?" he offered, pointing to the dice.

"You go ahead," Jemma offered. "I'm just going to get another cup of tea."

Fitz waited for Jemma to get back before he rolled, just so that she couldn't accuse him of cheating. Not that she _would_. First of all, she didn't think like that. Second of all, if he'd been cheating this whole time, he was remarkably bad at it.

"Ugh," he sat back in his seat. " _History_." That and Sports  & Leisure were his least favourite categories. Well, and Entertainment. _And_ Arts  & Literature.

 _Why_ had he thought playing this was a good idea again?

"In 1903," Jemma read in her perfect school ma'am voice, "Albert Einstein used quantum theory to explain the photoelectric effect. Which Danish physicist used the same constant in 1913 to explain the stability of Rutherford's atom?"

Fitz blinked for a moment, unable to believe his luck. A physics question in History?

Sitting up, he grinned cockily. "Niels Bohr," he said with confidence.

Jemma flipped the card over even though they both knew that she knew that he was right. "Correct," she said, her own smile souring slightly. "Roll again."

* * *

Fitz was having a great time. He was up 4 pies to 1 against Jemma, and for once she was in her skivvies while he had only lost his shoes.

He wondered if she always matched her bra and knickers or if it was only sometimes. He hadn't seen both at the same time in any of their previous games nights.

This particular set was lace again. Black this time, and once again a thong. He hadn't checked or anything. Just noticed in passing when she took off her jeans.

Just like he hadn't noticed that he could see her nipples through the lace.

... If he looked carefully.

... Which he definitely wasn't doing.

He shifted around in his seat a bit, adjusting himself to a more comfortable position, and rolled the dice. "Three!" he cheered, rapidly sliding his piece over to the brown Arts & Literature category. He'd had remarkable luck all night in getting questions that he knew the answers to, and he could only hope that his streak continued. "Brown for a pie," he grinned at Jemma.

Jemma, for her part, rolled her eyes and pulled a card out of the box. She read the question to herself before reading it to him and she muttered, "Seriously?" to herself under her breath.

Fitz knew that was a good sign. A frustrated Jemma was probably about to be a naked-er Jemma.

Clearing her throat, Jemma rolled her eyes and sighed out the question, "This Bach piece from his 3rd orchestral suite in D major often causes titters in crowds because of its titular similarity to a particular type of risqué undergarment."

"Air on the G string!" Fitz shouted immediately. It was the first classical piece he'd ever been able to identify, for that very reason. Jemma had heard him make any number of jokes about it in the time they'd known each other, so no wonder she reacted the way she had.

"Correct," she groaned, shoving the card into the back of the box with the same sort of ill-humour Fitz usually showed when they played these games.

He was still gleefully fitting his pie piece into its slot when Jemma reached behind her and unsnapped her bra.

"I supposed it's about time you got your chance to gloat," she said with a smile and a shrug.

Fitz stared at her chest, watching it move as she shrugged, and completely forgot to blink for at least 15 seconds.

"...What?" he finally managed to squeak out, tearing his eyes away from her naked chest to look at her face. He was somewhat pleased to see _Jemma_ blushing for a change.

Jemma cleared her throat again, nervously this time, and sat up straighter. Then, looking down, she slouched. Then she crossed her arms. Then uncrossed them. Then leaned her elbows on the table. Then lifted one arm to tug at her hair and push it behind her ear.

"You got it right," she finally told him with a self-conscious smile. "Go again."

Fitz nodded, reaching for the dice while having a difficult time not staring at Jemma's bare breasts. They were so pretty. All soft and round with little freckles on them and her little brown nipples poking out like that.

He finally managed to drag his eyes away long enough to roll a 5 and counted out the squares to a roll again. Then he rolled a 4. Roll again. Another 4, back to the previous Roll again. 4 _again_ and another roll again. Then another 5 and...

"Orange," he said, licking his dry lips as he looked at Jemma again. With a Herculean effort, he kept his eyes on her face. "For the pie."

Jemma kept eye contact with him as she slipped a card from box. Reading it, she grinned broadly, suddenly confident again. Leaning back, she crossed her legs and moved one arm under her breasts while the other held up the card for her to read.

Fitz closed his eyes in order to concentrate.

"What is the most landed on property in Monopoly?" Jemma asked in the tone of someone who knows there's no way their opponent will be getting their knickers.

Fitz forced himself not to smile. "Property or space?" he asked, frowning slightly. His eyes were still closed because he didn't want to lose his train of thought."

"It say property," Jemma answered, sounding a bit less sure of herself.

Fitz allowed his smile to appear as he opened his eyes. Looking positively euphoric, he said, "[Illinois Avenue](http://mindyourdecisions.com/blog/2014/01/21/game-theory-tuesdays-the-most-landed-property-in-monopoly/)."

Jemma's smile disappeared entirely as she looked at the back of the card. "How in the world-?" she asked, clearly readying herself for an epic huff.

"Game theory," Fitz shrugged. "You know I dabbled in Markov chains back at MIT," he pointed out reasonably.

" _Game theory_?" Jemma asked, outrage rising. " **Game theory**?!" She stood up and pushed her thong down angrily. "Of all the-" she muttered, stepping out of it and throwing it down on the board with as much force as the tiny scrap of cloth could muster. "This is totally unfair," she protested, standing there with her hands on her hips, seething.

Fitz stared at her, swallowing hard and trying not to think the kinds of thoughts that was definitely thinking. She looked like an avenging angel. Like some sort of Valkyrie. Irrationally, he wondered if Thor had ever seen anyone _this_ hot and scary in his whole life.

"I didn't write the game," Fitz said, spreading his hands defensively.

"Yes, well," Jemma pouted and glared and stomped one foot.

Fitz watched it all in fascination.

"I want a rematch!" she demanded, pointing a finger at him with such force it almost felt like a weapon.

Fitz found himself nodding, if only in self-defense. "Ehm, we don't have any more games though?" he said hesitantly.

" _I'll buy one_ ," Jemma said.

Then she gathered up her clothes and flounced off to her room.

Fitz peeked at her bum when she did. It was just as perfect as the rest of her.

Packing up the game, Fitz looked around for where Jemma had thrown his winning card. He wanted to keep it for posterity. The one time he'd ever beaten her at something.

All he found was one about some basketball player he'd never heard of.


	7. Twister

Fitz wasn't an idiot. After finding that card and not recognizing any of the questions on it, he started going through the entire side of the box that Jemma had been returning her used cards to. A few contained questions that he'd gotten right. All of the ones he'd gotten wrong were there. But a large percentage of his correct answers had been to questions Jemma had apparently made up on the spot.

She'd let him win.

On the one hand, Jemma was nice enough to have done it to make him feel better about getting beaten at every game for two months straight. On the other hand, she was a cutthroat competitor, so she had to have a reason _other_ than kindness to have forfeited the game.

What reason could she have for wanting him to see her naked?

Well, there was the obvious: she wanted to rebalance the scales, so to speak. She'd seen him naked so many times now that it was almost a non-issue. He could probably walk around their flat completely starkers and neither one of them would react to it. But still, she'd seen him vulnerable in that way, so perhaps she wanted to give him the same advantage over her. Erase any possible imbalance in their relationship.

That made sense.

The more laughable option was that she wanted him to see her naked because _she wanted him to see her naked._ But if that were true, it would have happened long before now and in a more obvious way. They _lived_ together, for pity's sake. If she wanted him to see her naked, all she had to do was strip down and walk into his room. None of this nonsense with the games needed.

Still. There was the matter of the knickers. Fitz and Jemma had been doing laundry together ever since she'd first seen the state of his Academy dorm room floor, and he knew that she didn't wear lacy thongs and practically transparent bras as a matter of course.

That was definitely a significant data point to consider.

On the other hand, though, he couldn't get past the fact that she had any number of opportunities with the dozen other games they'd played to do the same thing she'd done with Trivial Pursuit, and she hadn't done it.

Once more, the side of logic was the side of her doing it to make him feel better.

It would have been _interesting_ though, if she'd done it for those other reasons. Very interesting indeed.

He considered that possibility. At length. In the privacy of his own room.

* * *

When Friday night rolled around, Fitz was actually disappointed that they were out of games to play. He'd picked up a takeaway like he'd gotten in the habit of doing, and he supposed they'd just watch Netflix or something instead.

Except that's what they did on _Saturday_ nights, so... Yeah. It just felt off.

He was more than a little bit surprised to enter their apartment and find Jemma trying to work the bubbles out of a large plastic mat in the middle of their living room floor. She'd had to move the furniture around to even have enough space to lay it down.

"Jemma?" he asked, frowning in confusion. "What are-?"

"Twister," she said, pinning him with a glare of determination. "I said I wanted a rematch," she reminded him.

"Yes, but-"

"And that I'd buy a game."

"Yes, but-"

"And this one was on sale, so-"

"Jemma!"

"What?"

Now that he had her attention, he wasn't quite sure what he wanted to say. "Dinner?" he asked a bit lamely, holding up the bag of food.

* * *

Fitz was internally grateful that they'd taken their time to brush their teeth after dinner. Lemon garlic chicken was delicious, but given their current situation, the bad breath might have caused physical injury.

They'd quickly determined that with just the two of them playing, the traditional spinner that came with the game was going to cause problems. Jemma was on it, though, and she downloaded [an app](https://itunes.apple.com/us/app/twisthelper/id336656374?mt=8) to help them keep the game moving without having to pause due to technical difficulties.

Of course, after the first few falls, Fitz was sort of _wishing_ for a pause in game play to help him calm things down a bit.

In the pants region.

Jemma, if she noticed at all, didn't seem to mind his pitching a tent right there in the living room, though, so on they played. Each time one of them fell, they lost a piece of clothing and then reset to begin again.

Considering Jemma's long practice of yoga, Fitz had expected this game to be as lopsided as the others they'd played, but it turned out that his height advantage, slight though it might be, evened the playing field somewhat. While he was able to reach all four quadrants of the mat without having to overstretch himself, Jemma seemed to have more difficulty.

In fact, she'd been the first to slip, and she'd removed her socks with gusto.

"Total lack of friction," she mumbled to herself as she took them off. "How'm I meant to keep balance on that ruddy piece of plastic with my socks still on?" she asked.

"Same way _I'm_ meant to?" Fitz joked, chuckling at her discomfiture.

Jemma grinned up at him with a mock glare. "Your turn will come," she predicted.

She was right. And it didn't take long.

"Sonofa-!"

"I told you so."

" _Itoldyouso,_ " Fitz mocked in a poorly enacted English falsetto.

"I do _not_ sound like that."

" _Idonotsoundlikethat_."

"Fitz."

" _Fitz_."

"I swear to God-"

"Alright, alright," he laughed, grabbing her in a loose hug and giving her a kiss on the forehead. "I'm sorry."

"You'd _better_ be," Jemma pouted with a smile in her eyes. She gave him a playful, light punch to the gut to which he heavily over-acted.

"Oh!" he groaned, doubling over and clutching at his ribs. "You got me!"

Jemma rolled her eyes, but she still laughed.

"Just strip already," she said in an indulgent tone.

They grinned at each other as he stripped off his socks and tossed them over beside hers.

Even with bare feet, the slippery mat proved too much for them as time and time again, one of them would overreach or need to bend in a strange and unusual way, and then they'd topple. They'd decided at the outset that causing the other person to fall did not result in them removing clothing, which was a good thing. They both would have been naked inside of ten minutes.

As it was, it had been almost half an hour and they were both down to their underwear.

Fitz was more than a little bit nervous about playing now that Jemma was just wearing another of those tiny thongs she seemed to prefer these days. His boxers were doing nothing at all to hide the fact that he was enjoying not just _seeing_ her almost-naked body but also pressing up against it in new and creative positions.

If anything, Jemma seemed to be _encouraging_ the contact.

Fitz was starting to wonder if the less likely scenario in this whole business might just be the right one after all.

They started playing again after Jemma had paused for a bathroom break, and that had given him a chance to go from fully hard to half mast.

Well, maybe three quarters? It was an inexact science.

He was in a strange variation of downward facing dog pose and attempting not to drop down on Jemma who was in a kind of tabletop pose below him. Remembering those yoga classes she’d dragged him along to wasn’t keeping him nearly distracted enough either. His right arm was shaking in preparation of giving out.

“Left hand green,” he grunted out as the app spat out their next move. 

He managed to put his hand down easily enough, but Jemma was going to have to twist herself almost entirely over in order to reach. 

Just as she started to move, her right foot slipped and knocked out his left and then they were both crashing down on the mat. He landed fully on top of her and her legs wrapped automatically around his waist, and then he was grunting for a very different reason indeed. 

“Oops?” Jemma smiled up at him. And then she rolled her hips and it was clear that it hadn’t been an accident.

"Jemma?" Fitz asked, staring into her eyes, just centimeters from his own.

"Fitz?" she replied, her eyes tracking from his down to his lips and then lingering.

 Fitz's throat suddenly felt very dry while at the same time his entire body seemed to be sweating. Probably because it was plastered against Jemma's body. Her soft, smooth, warm body.

"Don't you want me to get up?" he asked with a weak chuckle. He didn't even try to move.

"Not especially."

"So I should stay?" he asked, licking his lips to wet them. "Here?"

"If you want to." Jemma licked her own lips and moved her legs up so her calves were alongside his ribs. "Although maybe not _quite_ here," she said suggestively. Then she rolled her hips again.

He swallowed hard, nerves singing as his own hips moved against her and they both moaned.

"Are you sure?" he asked, not quite believing what she seemed to be suggesting.

"I've been sure for months now," she smiled up at him, brushing his hair off his forehead with one hand. "You just haven't noticed."

To say Fitz was stunned by that revelation would be an understatement. He suddenly wanted to think back to their every interaction for the past six months to analyze what hints she might have dropped that he'd missed.

But that could wait. He had something else he needed to do just now.

Shifting against her, Fitz leaned down and pressed his lips to Jemma's.

They both sighed at the contact and moaned as the kiss deepened. This was no shy first kiss between strangers. This was a deep passionate kiss between two people who knew each other inside out, backwards and forwards, in every way except _this_ and who wanted to learn this piece just as thoroughly.

Lips parted and tongues tangled and breath intermingled as hands wandered over naked flesh.

Jemma's fingers combed through his hair, tugging on it gently, pulling him just where she wanted him and making them both moan again.

Fitz thrust against her, both of them eager for the pressure and the friction, and he swore when his hard cock slipped out through the fly of his boxer shorts.

He stopped kissing her in order to apologize, but the hungry look on Jemma's face stopped the words before the got past his throat. She was flushed and panting and her pupils were wide. She looked almost wild, and he'd never seen anything sexier in his life.

He watched as she reached between them and pulled her knickers to the side, and the next time he thrust against her, he pushed his cock inside.

They both swore at the feeling, and he groaned as he buried himself completely.

Jemma's back arched as her eyes rolled back, her mouth opened in a silent scream of pleasure.

Leaning down, Fitz kissed and nibbled her neck, sucking on the sharp cords standing out under her skin, and then he kissed down even further until he reached her breasts. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about them, ever since he'd seen her in her bra. When he'd seen them naked... Well, his productivity this past week had been completely shot.

Unless he worked in a sperm bank. Then he'd have been making money hand over fist.

He could tell he wasn't going to last long this first time, but it seemed like Jemma might not either. That thought was as intoxicating as it was impossible. He was right in the midst of thrusting inside her, and he still couldn't believe it was happening. It was too much like all of his fantasies.

Except better in every possible way.

Fitz was speeding up his thrusts now, despite himself, and he tried to concentrate on kissing and licking Jemma's nipples rather than on how good she felt around him. It was a lost cause, however, and he knew it, but he still grit his teeth and tried to hold on.

And then Jemma slid a hand in between them. Her fingers trailed along his stomach and tickled through his pubic hair before finally resting just above where their bodies met.

Her thrusting increased in speed and desperation, then, and her pussy started to clench tight around him. Her other hand moved back into his hair from where it had been clutching at his back, and she pulled him back up for another long, deep kiss.

He groaned into her mouth just as she whimpered into his, and then he was filling her up as she shuddered around him, and he couldn't imagine anything feeling more perfect.

Jemma's legs gradually straightened out and lowered back to the floor and Fitz rolled off of her, pulling her with him to lay against his side. They both panted hard as they tried to catch their breath, and then Jemma started chuckling.

"What?" Fitz asked, a smile poised on his lips.

"Nothing," Jemma said, grinning at him. "I was just thinking... Next week. Strip Jenga?"

Fitz grinned back and kissed her again. "It's a date."


End file.
